Pas de Deux
by Sage Darkwoods
Summary: River dances alone, until she persuades Jayne to join her. Based on the five parts of the traditional pas de deux in ballet, but that’s as far as traditional goes for these two. Written for gilove2dance for 2008’s serenity santa.
1. Entree

**Title:** Pas de Deux  
**Author:** sagedarkwoods  
**Rating:** R  
**Pairing:** Jayne/River  
**Disclaimer:** _Firefly_ and related characters are the property of Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. This is a piece of fiction not intended for profit, only for entertainment.

**Notes:** Set a bit after _Serenity_.

**Summary:** Written for gilove2dance for 2008's lj community serenity_santa. River dances alone, until she persuades Jayne to join her. Based on the five parts of the traditional _pas de deux_ in ballet, but that's as far as traditional goes for these two.

_Entrée_

She's twirling again, in the cargo hold, arms out and high in angles that sorta remind him of them fancy Core dancers he saw on a data file once. Weren't his decision to look; just happened to be there is all, and the whore he was with at the time wanted to be like the ballerinas. She was a bigger girl, busty, lots to hold onto, but she ain't no ballerina. River… was little. Thin, but strong. Hell, he remembered how strong she was under that mop of stringy hair and shapeless dresses. He remembered – to each painfully detailed moment – how she'd grabbed his man-parts and held him there at Fanty and Mingo's. She'd literally had him by the balls; usually he'd have to pay for that sort of service. The area in question twitched a might at the memory, and he suppressed a groan.

He leaned over the railing for a better look. She moved so smoothlike. She'd turned a bunch of times in a row and then stopped, reaching a hand out in front of her like she was looking to hold hands with someone not there, and she let it drop. She turned slowly to look up at the gangplank, looking straight at him. She tilted her head in that disturbing moon-brained way, like she was trying to read through a guy, then twirled quickly on her toes and mimed an exaggerated waltz.

He huffed, and stomped back to the kitchen, refusing to look back at her. Ain't no way moonbrain were going to read him, not if he had anything to say about it. If she had, she'd see stuff that weren't fit for "polite company" as Mal called it. The way she moved was like she didn't need to walk on the ground; she glided. And everything was precise, like a sharpshooter, but flowed like water it was so easy-looking. That's what was getting to him, and more importantly making other parts of his anatomy harder to ignore. He groaned, louder this time, and sat in one of the wooden chairs around the big table. He can't be thinking of Crazy like that, no matter how her skirt showed more of them legs of hers when she twirled. He'll just sit it out until this passes, and he's no longer catching crazy from her.

"I give up," he finally said, and walked quickly to his bunk.

***

'He watches the girl with interest,' she noted, while stretching calf muscles so as not to pull them. She knew he has paused to watch her dance, as she has taken to doing after lunch in the cargo hold. The dance held her in thrall; she missed the quick pirouettes, the jumps, the _entrechats_ with feet crisscrossing in the air. She put her feet at almost a parallel and went into a _grand plié_, arms in a loose circle out in front of her. Another _plié_, this time sweeping one arm to the floor, then raising it in a wide circle to stretch toward the ceiling. River stretched up onto the balls of her feet, wishing she had her pointe shoes, but still happy to be barefoot, feeling the thrum of Serenity's engines gently reverberating through the floor. 'She shall give him something to watch,' she thought, barely concealing a smile.

River moved her feet into fifth position, and pulled up from the ribcage onto demi-pointe. She traveled across the floor slowly, keeping her steps small and close. Then, back on flat feet, she extended her right leg up to hip height, then whipped it around, causing her to turn rapidly, and pulled her foot to her knee. She did three successive _fouetté rond de jambe en tournant_, then came down to rest again. She heard Jayne groan, though he tried to suppress it. He was certainly watching the girl, and his stray thoughts were starting to get loose.

Fixing her spot on the opposite wall, River pirouetted once, twice, three, four times, and extended her arm in a reach, fingers loose yet still retaining some tension. There was no one to reach for, no one to catch her were she to _grand jeté_ in that direction. She had no prince; there was no partner. She dropped her arm, the feeling of the dance draining out of her through the cargo hold's floorboards.

Turning her head, she regarded Jayne. His thoughts were leaping from his mind, as though they were performing their own _grand pas_. But his thoughts were not chaste; chased is closer. Those thoughts leapt at River and she twirled away quickly, going into a pantomime of a waltz with an invisible partner, a doll of her mind's fabrication, as she had to conceal the blush spreading across her cheeks. She could not have the thoughts catch her; she would be lost in the woods, running from the wolf they had transformed into. The swan was out of the water in the night, and her prince was nowhere to be found. River paused in her pantomime, watching the retreating figure on the catwalk. Perhaps the swan could find her prince, after all.


	2. Adagio

_Adagio_

A/N: I was inspired by this video: .com/watch?v=anZvpxIHx0I Something about it struck such a resonant chord with these two. It helped that the troupe was from a place called Canton.

"Man-called-Jayne is requested to join the girl on the dancefloor." River stood in the small space of the cargo hold, arms dangling at her sides, looking up at him through her curtain of dark hair.

"Ain't no dancefloor, crazy girl, since it's a cargo hold, and currently full of cargo," he pointed out, thumping down the stairs from the catwalk. "'Sides, I don't dance fancy like that."

"Have seen you dance," she countered. "On the moon with the harvest festival, with Zoe and Kaylee and others. You are a good partner, and a _pas de deux_ needs two people."

"Paw duh what?" he said, his features scrunching into confusion. "I don't speak that dance language."

"_Pas de deux_," she repeated. "That language is French. This is the language of dance." At that, she bent over at the waist, extending one leg back and up and keeping her torso still in a perfect arabesque. The hem of her skirt slipped up her leg to rest mid-thigh. Jayne kept very still, staring at the thin fabric runched up. She rotated her hips so as to face him, then bent the extended leg at the knee, hooking it around his back. He felt the arch of her bare foot at the small of his back. "This is how it is spoken," she continued, voice steady as if she were discussing the weather instead of pulling him closer to her body.

He swallowed reflexively; usually when a woman's feet were at his back, he wasn't exactly dancing with them, and his body had started to respond out of habit. "I don't know if'n ya should be doing that, girl." He put his hands to her shoulders and tried to push her away. Instead of yielding, she put her hands over his and lifted them up.

"The hands do not go on the shoulders, but on the waist," she explained. She kicked her bent leg out and forward, so she spun around to face away from him, and placed her foot on the floor nearly parallel in front of her other outturned foot. Jayne's hands were still in the air, so she plucked them carefully and placed them below her ribcage. "There."

Jayne knew he was being played, being used, possibly being made to look like a fool, but he was beginning not to care. That was the part that bothered him the most. This _hun dan_ girl was crazy. Cut him up once. Killed a gorram ton of Reavers by herself, with nary a scratch on her.

Saved their lives.

_Was_ crazy. Not as crazy anymore. She'd been getting better ever since the return from Miranda and Mr. Universe's moon. She had only been given smoothers for her sleep a few times, and hell, he couldn't blame her for that. Most of the crew that he knew of needed a few to get through the first week, and the others weren't advertising it if they did. Simon had been more than happy to request the extra med supplies from the Alliance as some recompense. Truth is they should've gotten more for their trouble, as far as Jayne was concerned, but the Captain said something to the effect of, "Be glad we're not rotting in jail."

She wasn't completely crazy anymore, but she still talked different than the rest of the crew. Her brain had still been cut into, and Jayne was no genius by anybody's thinking, but he knew that some things were likely permanent. Still, she was there, and pliable, willing girl flesh was beneath his hands. He could stand to play a while.

He held her lightly as instructed, hands just brushing her waist while she lifted up on her toes and turned in place. "Why'd you whip yer head like that?" he asked, leaning back to avoid being smacked in the face by the dark tendrils.

"Spot turns. Prevents the eye from becoming unfocused, thus becoming disoriented." She leaned back and inclined her head to look at him. At his puzzled expression, she added, "I don't get dizzy."

He grunted a reply, and involuntarily flexed his fingers at her waist. She noticed, and turned all the way to face him. "Time for a new lesson," she stated, taking his hands from her waist and gripping his palms at hip height. "Stay still," was her only warning, before she bent her knees and jumped into the air. She bent slightly at the waist in mid-air before lifting both her feet up and over her head, and then straightened her elbows. The effect reminded Jayne of a handstand, though one done over a metre above the ground.

He held her firm, locking his elbows. She didn't weigh much, but in this position he certainly didn't want to drop her on her head on the metal grating. He was also keenly aware that her skirt had pooled mostly at her waist, and it was her locked arms that kept it from draping over her head. Her shorts – very short shorts, he saw – left him with a great view of her firm backside, and then he became aware of another growing problem. Again.

River stretched her legs straight up, then bent one at the knee, to make a perfect triangle at her other knee with her pointed toe. She then slowly rotated her extended leg out to the side, while still managing to keep her balance. She hummed a bit, just a quiet, contented sound, then stretched her legs straight upwards again. She tucked them back towards her chest, rolling down from the position, to land on the floor facing Jayne. Her breathing was strained; so was his.

"That was, uh, a mite diff'rent than I saw before," he said.

"Acrobatic style," she agreed, dropping his hands. The sudden coolness against his palms was surprising; the surprising part was that he missed the warmth of River's hands on his. "You are a strong partner. This is agreeable; we can function together. Tomorrow, same time." She didn't meet his eyes, only ran up the stairs to the catwalk and disappeared down the hallway.

Jayne realized, as he watched her go, that he didn't actually say yes, but knew without a shadow of a doubt that his sorry _pi gu_ would be in that cargo hold tomorrow. He was pretty sure it was due to that pert backside he'd been shown earlier. Yep, no other reason than that.


	3. Variation Un

**Title:** Pas de Deux: Variation Un (part 3/5)  
**Author:** sagedarkwoods  
**Rating:** R  
**Pairing:** Jayne/River  
**Disclaimer:** _Firefly_ and related characters are the property of Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. This is a piece of fiction not intended for profit, only for entertainment.

**Notes:** Set a bit after _Serenity_.

**Summary:** Written for gilove2dance for 2008's lj community serenity_santa. River dances alone, until she persuades Jayne to join her. Based on the five parts of the traditional _pas de deux_ in ballet, but that's as far as traditional goes for these two.

_**Variation Un**_

Her thoughts were a jumbled mess as she ran from him. His own thoughts, far more carnal, pursued her through Serenity's metal halls, through the kitchen, into the common room, past the infirmary (Simon paused, she's running again, that can't be good, maybe we need to remedicate, would it slow her recovery). She flew past Inara's shuttle (breathe in, out, should pick up more incense next time we're planetside, wonder what Mal's doing right now), and passed Kaylee, smudged with engine grease (where's she goin' so fast, poor _mei mei_, sweet thing, is Simon in the kitchen I reckon).

She nearly slammed into Zoe, just exiting her bunk, so lost was she in others' thoughts and trying to escape her own. Zoe held out her hands in front of her, ready to steady River, and looked at her quizzically. "Everything okay, River? You look a mite startled."

River shook her head slowly. "Just a deer, caught in the searchlights." She breathed deeply, and Zoe's eyebrows knitted together.

"Do you need me to get the Captain?" Her voice was steady, calming. River breathed in the calm and grounded herself.

"I am fine, though…" she worried her lip and tugged at a strand of hair. Her brown eyes widened as she looked at Zoe. "I need to understand."

Zoe pursed her lips and nodded once. "You wanna come in and talk?" she gestured to her bunk.

River shook her head, quickly this time, hair flying about. "No. Too many ghosts."

The tall woman cast her eyes to the metal grating floor. "Right. Not the best place. Come on."

They walked together to the common room, and settled on the sofa. Zoe waited for River to speak, looking at her patiently.

The girl twisted a fistful of hair and shifted in her seat. "Jayne is troublesome."

The corner of Zoe's lips quirked upwards. "Been troublesome since the day he stepped on this boat. You want me to beat on him some?"

"Not what the girl meant." She paused, slowly letting go of her hair and resting her hands in her lap. "His thoughts, he moves like… I can't think. He makes me confused."

Zoe sat back against the thin, well-worn cushions and smiled. "You're talking a different trouble. Jayne's a problem no one's been able to fix so far. 'Course, not many have tried. Seems he prefers it that way too, the way he spends his time planetside."

River made a sour face, her expression evidence enough of what she thought about his planetside adventures with women. "He does not need fixing. He is not broken. The girl… I'm broken." She pulled her knees in tightly to her chest, and rested her chin on the top of them, her hair falling forward to hide her face.

She felt Zoe shift on the couch, as she tucked some hair behind River's ear. "You've been through a lot," she started. Zoe grimaced and breathed deeply. "We all have. And from what I've seen, you're a lot more fixed than when you first came on this ship. I think you need to give yourself a little credit."

River turned her head to look at Zoe, her right cheek resting on her knee. "I am not a girl that Jayne would find himself with were he given a choice. Historically he has shown little regard for me as a female. He has found me more tolerable as of late, but has not shown attraction. Except for stray thoughts… It was incidental. I do not possess the qualities he seeks in a mate." Zoe's brow furrowed at the last, and River rolled her eyes. "Mutual attraction is not logical, as the male has categorically shown he prefers large mammaries, whether surgically enhanced or natural." River looked down at her chest. "I am not in that category."

Zoe raised an eyebrow. "More'n a handful is a waste, so I've heard tell," she said, the corner of her mouth upturned. "'Sides, you've got them long dancer's legs. Gotta count for something."

River pursed her lips, eyes drifting to her feet. She straightened one leg and pointed her toes. "Musculature is strong, and the arch of the foot and calf are shapely," she mused. "These can be suitable qualities."

"These are great qualities," Zoe affirmed. "Don't get me wrong, I still don't get it. But, not a lot of people got me and Wash, either." Her smile faltered, then she shook her head once. "Just try talking to him. Maybe something will make sense."

"Words are not his strong suit," River countered, raising her other leg to join the one already in the air.

"Then don't use words," Zoe said with a smirk. "He responds better to actions, anyway." She pushed herself off the couch and walked back towards her bunk, leaving River to her thoughts.

***

Jayne was on the forty-seventh repetition with the weights when River padded into view. She stood at his feet, head tilted to the side, staring at him like he was a fascinating bug. "What're you looking at?" he grunted on the forty-eighth rep.

"Man-called-Jayne is perspiring," she noted.

"Yeah. Been working out. S'what happens." Forty-nine. Fifty. He set the long bar back in place and stretched his arms straight up, the light glinting off his biceps.

"Glistening," River continued in that same quiet, disconnected tone. "Almost… shiny." A hint of a smile came on the last word. Jayne caught it and sat up.

"You sayin' you think I'm shiny, Moonbrain?" He grabbed the towel that hung on the end of the weight bench and brought it up to mop his brow.

"Perhaps." She swung a leg up and extended it so her heel rested on the bench, a few inches away from his knees. She hid a smile as she noticed his eyes traveling the length of her leg. "Does this please you?" She leaned forward, and placed her other knee on the end of the bench, deliberately letting the hem of her dress ride further up her extended leg. Jayne's eyes followed the hem's trajectory.

"Uh." He swallowed, then met her eyes. "Aw hell, plenty of women find me shiny," he said, looking away. He remembered what he had been doing, and mopped at his chest with the towel.

River leaned forward, resting her weight on her knee and bending the other so that she was a foot away from him. "You know, dancing is an aerobic workout. It burns calories and builds lean muscle. One can work up quite a sweat."

"I'm sure it can, princess, but it's not the same thing as lifting weights." He smirked at her, his head tilting to match her angle.

"Depends on the weights lifted," she replied, leaning closer. "And it's more fun with two." At that, she plucked the towel from his grasp and dropped it succinctly in his lap. She smiled, and scuttled off the bench quickly, running up the stairs. Jayne felt the tightness in his pants and groaned as he realized exactly why she'd dropped the towel there.

"Gorramit girl, you're gonna kill me one of these days," he groaned, and flopped back down on the weight bench. "Or I might have to do myself in, thinking these things." He draped an arm over his eyes and sighed. "This _go se_ has gotta stop. I'll get spaced for this." He stayed prone on the bench for several long, uncomfortable minutes, then he made a decision. Grabbing the towel from his lap, he stood up and walked up the stairs in the direction of Inara's shuttle.


End file.
